Paper Flowers
by Quietonewisp
Summary: Irikah meets Thane
1. Chapter 1

The sun broke through the clouds, setting Irikah's shadow before her as she began winding her way home from school. Her bag was heavy with papers, swinging against her legs as she left her empty classroom behind.

Sunsets on Kahje were a precious thing. She hadn't seen a proper one in two years, and this was one was showing signs of lasting until the sun dipped beneath the skyline, offering a rare glimpse of the stars.

The opportunity was too good to miss.

Irikah slowed her pace, and decided to join the crowd milling in the square beneath the blossom trees. The scent of the larni trees filled the air, spice with a hint of sweetness that brought a memory tumbling back.

_Spiralling blossom petals, hands outstretched to catch them, the laughter of children hidden somewhere just out of reach. _

That had been the last time she'd been living at home during blossom season, something that her family took very seriously. They would all be sitting there now, amidst the carpet of petals, yet here she was. Free at last.

The memory faded and Irikah took a deep breath, inhaling the sweetness as she sat down one of the low walls that surrounded the trees.

Usually the square was emptying at this time as everyone rushed home after a day at work, but the sunshine seemed to have infected everyone with a lazy sense of joy. Laughter filled the air, and for the first time since leaving home Irikah felt the sense of community that she hadn't realised she'd been missing.

Nobody spoke to her, but it was enough to simply sit amongst them, snatching fragments of conversation from those around her.

A man to her left was boasting about his children and Irikah couldn't help listening in, glancing up at him. Whoever he was, he stood with his back to her, his formal outfit dusted with petals, and a bright red dot trembling on his shoulder.

At first Irikah assumed it was a fallen fire bug shaken from the tree as it shed its snowy weight. Then the dot shivered, and gave an unnatural swoop up to the back of the man's head in a motion that instantly revealed its true nature.

Whoever he was, this man with his boasts about his children, he was about to be cast down before her. His blood would stain the fallen flowers, mingling with the bright blossoms, and the peace of the evening would be shattered, forever tainting her memory with death.

Irikah was not willing to let that happen. She moved and caught the light on her own skin, staring through the dying rays of the sun towards the invisible killer.

"How dare you! How dare you!"

The light trembled and dropped, dancing across her shoulder, and Irikah sucked in her breath as the dot came to a halt on her chest. Images of her family rushed into her mind, their faces upturned to hers as they sat beneath the trees, and regret washed through her heart. She felt the petals touch her skin, waiting for the shot.

Then the light blinked out, and it was as if nothing had happened.

Voices rang out around her, and Irikah released the breath she'd been holding. The man behind her started laughing and in the distance she heard the familiar sound of the overland transport. The only sign that anything was amiss was the rapid beat of her heart as she struggled to regain control.

The magic of the evening had been lost. Irikah turned and the man stumbled into her, catching sight of her eyes and reacting how people always did.

"Ah, what a pretty one. Could I?" he asked, grinning and reaching his thumb out toward the star on her head.

Irikah jerked away, scooped her bag up then walked as fast as she could out of the square. People always wanted to do that and it drove her crazy, this insistence on touching her for luck as though she were nothing more than a stone or a shell.

Her irritation ebbed away, only to be replaced the cold grasp of fear at what had just taken place. She had risked her life to save a stranger, and as that light flickered on her chest she had thought only of what was important to her. She longed to hear the voice of her mother, to soothe away the fear.

Irikah quickened her pace, resolving to contact her mother as soon as she got home.

She yanked her bag back up onto her shoulder and glanced down the shadowed path, catching sight of a figure walking towards her. Irikah put her head down and altered her direction, hoping to avoid drawing any more attention.

A shadow fell across her feet, and she realised with irritation that the stranger had changed his path to meet hers. Irikah swerved to one side, bag slipping from her arm as she found herself face to face with him.

He stood taller than her, his green and black scales catching the last rays of the light that painted him with a burnished gleam. His eyes were black, green streaking through the pupils that remained fixed on her as he fell to his knees at her feet.

"Please, I must humbly beg for your forgiveness."

Irikah stared at him in shock, then with dawning suspicion she looked around to see if anybody was watching her. If this was another one of her brother's jokes she was going to have some words for him.

The path remained empty, and with a slight thrill of fear she looked back at the stranger, at his face tilted up towards hers.

"My forgiveness? For what? You must have the wrong person. May the day find you well," she said stiffly, moving to walk around him.

His hand flashed out and took her wrist, his skin green against the purple of her own.

"_Laser dot trembles on the skull, spice on the spring wind. Sunset eyes defiant in the scope_."

His words, his memory, it was her. That made him the wielder of the light, the one who had been about to spill blood across the sunlit floor of the square, and if he had no qualms about doing that, then he would have no problem finishing her there on the empty path.

"You….that was you. I have no wish to talk to you," she said, the pitch of her voice rising.

"I mean you no harm, that was…business. This is…"

She had no idea what this was, and she had no wish to find out despite his assurances. His hand still held hers and the contact was jarring, the warmth of a stranger whom she believed capable of killing her right there.

"I would appreciate it if you took your hand from me, please," she said, her eyes not leaving his.

He acquiesced, eyes fluttering. "Please, I beg your pardon, I… I must have your forgiveness."

The note of uncertainty in his voice was what reached her, the desperation apparent on his face. He wanted something from her, and she was the one with the power to grant that, as he had been the one ready to grant death.

She looked around, and then wrapped her arms about herself, staring down at him.

"You may not have it. I will not grant you forgiveness, you do not deserve it. I make no apologies to you, I do not beg your leave and I offer no wishes for your well-being."

Irikah fumbled to grab her bag, knocking it over then scooping it into her arms as she fled through the lengthening shadows and away from the stranger.

She didn't dare look back until she reached the end of the path, could only focus on the task of putting one foot in front of the other as her words replayed themselves over and over. The look on his face as she dismissed him bothered her more than it ought to, and she rubbed at her wrist as though she might scrub it clean of his touch.

When she turned he was still there as she'd left him, reaching out to pick something up off the ground where she had been standing.

Someone walked past her and Irikah jumped, holding her bag close as she fled, knowing there would be no escaping him now. His face was etched in her memory, his touch would always be warm on her skin.


	2. Chapter 2

She listened for it, the hesitation before the sound. Then the cough barked out, and Irikah let out the breath she hadn't even realised she'd been holding, her hands loosening around the warm cup.

"Well? Do you like it?" Ennai pestered, sitting down next to Irikah and cradling her cup.

"It's delicious, I know they'll love it," Irikah managed to respond, looking at her little sister's face and wishing she could keep her like that forever. Optimistic and cheerful, with her future still waiting bright and unknown. It couldn't last, not with the progression of their mother's illness.

"Good. I created it specially you know, as part of my Guild entry exam," Ennai boasted, smiling into her cup. "And are you taking anything different?"

"What she means is are you taking anybody different?" Brina interrupted, swooping in to grab one of her children. "And it's no good pulling that face at me, everybody is thinking it even if no one will say anything."

Irikah pulled her tongue back in and scowled into her cup, swirling the golden liquid around as she contemplated the reminder of why she'd moved out at the first opportunity. There was no privacy living here, everything was picked over and argued about whether she liked it or not.

She thought longingly about her tiny apartment, crammed with books and plants, then heard the cough again and remembered why she was there.

"No, I am not bringing anybody," Irikah said calmly.

"Besyat will be there."

Irikah glowered at Ennai who shrank back beneath her older sister's piercing gaze, her neck flushing with embarrassment.

She was tired of hearing that name, given the fact that they had broken up over a year ago. Besyat had been, in her family's eyes, the perfect partner for her. He was kind, considerate, and had a good future laid out ahead of him. He was also boring, clingy, and conservative.

Irikah wanted something else. She wanted the space to be herself and the freedom to live as she wished, without the pressure to give up work the moment a child came along. The thought of a child filled her with anxiety. She'd seen the effect it had on her sisters, their horizons narrowed after such promising beginnings.

Her family seemed to think that all she needed was a steadying influence, and up until a few months ago her mother hadn't been shy in telling her exactly how she should be living her life. Now the silences were laden with accusation, and Irikah couldn't help but feel guilty that she was making her mother worry in what looked like the last few months of her life.

Kepral's was going to take her away from them, and there was nothing any of them could do about it.

"I'm sorry," Ennai said quietly, reaching out to touch her sister's hand. "I know you didn't want to hear that. You are still coming though aren't you? Mother would be —"

"I'll be there," Irikah interrupted. She got to her feet, rinsed out the mug then started gathering her things. The light outside was dying, and she didn't want to be caught out in the dark alone.

Irikah took one last glance out of the window, then trailed slowly through the house to find her mother, the scent of illness growing stronger with every step. One day this would pass, but she couldn't help wondering who would be next.

She found her mother sitting beside the upstairs' window, her face turned to catch the last of the light.

"Mother, I'm leaving now. I have my assessment tomorrow," Irikah said, gathering her mother's hands in hers, sitting down beside her. She looked faded, as though she'd been left out in the sun for too long, and the glorious gold of her eyes seemed dimmed.

It was like staring into a mirror of things to come, but Irikah forced herself to look. One day this would be all she had left of her mother.

"Be careful out there. I wish…"

Her mother coughed again, the sound fracturing the quiet of the house, and Irikah knew exactly what she was wishing. There was no way she was moving back in.

"I'm always careful," she said softly, leaning into kiss the five pointed star that adorned her mother's head.

A red dot, petals falling, his face tilted to hers. _I must have your forgiveness_.

What was another lie now?

Irikah wiped each leaf carefully, checking them for signs of the silver rot that was so common on Kahje.

Once she was satisfied all the orchids were clear, Irikah moved onto potting the tiny trees that were her classes' next project. She wanted them to learn how they were shaped, how every tiny alteration made added up to something beautiful, no matter how insignificant it seemed.

"Lady Ektrepho?"

Irikah turned to her intercom, wiping her damp forehead on her sleeve. "Yes?"

"You have a visitor, shall I send him in?"

"Yes, please," she replied, searching for the soft hand cloth she usually kept by the door. She found it on the floor, gave herself a quick dust off, and then stepped out of the humid air of her greenhouse and into her office. The door hissed shut and sealed itself, the cool air of her office feeling unpleasantly chilly.

Her brother hadn't been to see her in weeks, and she was looking forward to catching up over tea. She was particularly looking forward to telling him that she had passed her final assessments—she was no longer a trainee but a fully qualified teacher, and her class was now entirely her own. No more supervision or interference.

She heard the door open and smiled up at the sound, but it wasn't her brother that stood there, gaze flicking nervously round the room. It was the stranger, the killer from the square.

The smile fell from Irikah's face, shock freezing her to the spot.

"What are you doing here?" she managed to ask. "Why are you here?"

He walked towards her, took one arm from behind his back and extended his hand to her. "I came to return this," he murmured, watching her intently.

Nestling in his palm was a perfectly folded paper flower that one of her students had made for her. She had supposed that it had gone missing in her office somewhere, and had given no more thought to it. Now she remembered him on his knees reaching out for something, and knew exactly when it had fallen out.

She reached out, taking it from him as quickly as she dared. Her name was written on every petal in perfect swirls, showing exactly how he would have traced her, but not why.

"Thank you," she said coldly, laying it on her desk amidst the jumble of paperwork and pictures of her family. "Why are you here?"

"I—"

"No," Irikah interrupted, lifting her chin. "I know you thought you were doing a me a favour but why would you? I've said all I have to say to you and I would appreciate it if you left."

"I will do as you ask, but first might I ask why you chose to save him. He was nothing to you, an irritation at best, yet you chose to save his life at the risk of your own. Why would you do this?" he asked, folding his arms behind his back.

It was a question she had asked herself, over and over again as she relived that moment with the dot resting on her skin.

"When you pull the trigger what happens next?" she asked.

"My target dies, immediately if Amonkira is feeling kindly that day."

"Amonkira has nothing to do with this. You pull the trigger," Irikah said.

"My body pulls the trigger, I do not."

"So your 'body' pulls the trigger and then they die. What next?"

He looked unsure, this strange man. His face betrayed something of himself, and Irikah was surprised by the glimpse she caught. "They…they are given to the sea," he said hesitantly.

"Correct. And who is left behind to face the consequences of your body's actions? Who pays the price? The widow weeping at home? The children left without a father? You don't see the consequences of your actions, and I do. I couldn't stand by and let you kill him, not when I could do something about it."

"Ah, so you believed that you were protecting the innocent?" he asked, his voice dropping low. "Perhaps it would interest you to know that this man has taken five innocent people from their families and is likely to take more? Will you be there when he chooses to do this? Will you face the consequences then?"

Irikah stilled, staring at the stranger before her. She had believed herself to be in the right, that he was the one in the wrong. Suddenly she wasn't sure, and it left her shaken, fingers gripping the edge of the desk to steady herself.

He looked at her, his blank expression giving way to one of concern, and he took the smallest step towards her.

"I told you to leave," Irikah said, stepping backwards. "Get out!"

He looked at her then, holding her with his gaze for a moment longer before offering a small bow and walking from the room. Whoever he was, he had no reason to come back.

The door to the classroom snicked shut, and Irikah flopped onto her chair, laying her head down on the cluttered mess of her desk. The flower fluttered next to her face, every letter of her name bright against the pale paper. He knew her name, and she knew nothing of him.


	3. Chapter 3

The light shifted around her, and Irikah watched it dance over her skin in broken fragments as she wound her way through the bright corridors.

Somewhere far beneath her, her class was visiting the hanar school, giving her the opportunity to visit one of her favourite places—the surface section of the Palace of the Illuminated Primacy.

It was a place of shifting light and shadow, deep pools and curved glass walls. She had spent many months there during her training alongside her closest friend, a hanar teacher by the face name of Cassil. Together they had explored the usually secret corridors of the Palace, granted entrance by Cassil's father who worked somewhere in the inner sanctum.

Irikah used her memories to find her way back to the Waters of Unerring Insight, a pool situated deep within the twisting depths of the Palace. They usually visited it together, but Cassil had taken charge of her class for their first extended lesson beneath the waters.

The room was empty save for the still water of the pool, its surface echoing the mirrored ceiling. With a sigh Irikah sat down, peeled off her pumps and lowered her sore feet into the water.

The water eased the ache left by the dancing at her cousins' wedding the night before. She had danced until dawn, trying to lose herself in the thrum of the music and shake the lingering feeling of melancholy.

It wasn't loneliness, she told herself. It was the feeling of something on the horizon, of events in motion that she couldn't comprehend, but as the familiar melody of the drell bonding music floated through the air it seemed harder than ever to tell herself she was doing the right thing.

Besyat had watched from the side of the dance floor, his blue eyes never leaving her, and she couldn't help wondering if she'd been too rash ending their relationship.

Irikah closed her eyes and lay back on the cold floor, feeling the water start to soak through her robes and up her legs. Images flashed through her mind—the sight of her mother watching her from across the room, Ennai's smile as she danced beside her, and her two cousins stood together before the priestess as they offered their pledge to one another.

She opened her eyes and gazed up at the myriad planes of the crystal ceiling, reflections bouncing to the edges of the room. She saw herself, staring yellow-eyed, the broken ripples of the pool, and to her astonishment she saw the stranger, reflected back at her from another room.

His image was dark in the glass, illuminated only by the glow of his hanar companion. The hanar shimmered with colours of rage, deep purples and reds the like of which Irikah had never witnessed before. The stranger was being accused of failure, and as far as she could tell in the fractured reflections it was due to his inability to kill his last target.

Irikah sat up, looked quickly around the room, and then hopped lightly to her feet.

The walls around her showed nothing, opaque to discourage eavesdropping on those within. The ceiling, however, reflected everything taking place in the rooms beneath it.

Was this another consequence she had failed to foresee? She had been foolish enough to think she was preventing a murder from happening, when perhaps she had been the author of yet more misery. Her naivety had far-reaching consequences that she had failed to grasp, and from where she stood, staring up at the reflection, this seemed to be another one of them.

Irikah turned, trying to seek out which room they were in, and her wet feet slipped from beneath her. She let out an involuntary squeal as she fell, hitting the floor as the echoes bounced around the room.

When she looked up the dark eyes of the stranger were upon her in every reflection, and the hanar had changed from vivid crimson to a blazing purple. Eavesdropping was not tolerated at the best of times, and here she was inside the heart of the Illuminated Primacy, doing exactly that.

A door slid smoothly open and the stranger emerged, his eyes fixed on hers.

"Come with me," he said, no trace of kindness in his voice.

Irikah got slowly to her feet, her eyes never leaving him. She had no choice but to do as he said. She'd been caught eavesdropping and the punishment could be severe, unless she could salvage the situation. It would be difficult, considering the fact that she'd never had to placate anyone quite that angry, but it wasn't impossible.

"Irikah…"

She ignored him, leaving a trail of wet footprints behind her as she approached the hanar.

"Please, I meant no disrespect to you. It isn't his fault that he failed to reach his target. It is mine, let me be the one to take the consequences."

The hanar shimmered, accusation, questioning, and a glint of betrayal. "Who is this? Why is she watching us?" it demanded, and Irikah knew she had to act quickly.

"In truth your servant has not betrayed anything. I prevented him from fulfilling his task through my own foolish actions; I know nothing other than this. I do not even know his name, this I swear," Irikah said, conscious of the stranger at her side.

"Then why are you here, if not for him?" the hanar demanded, and she knew the answer could be the moment of her undoing. If she gave her identity away the disgrace would be linked with her family, and she would have no choice but to give up her job at the school and move home. She could only imagine her mother's reaction.

"I act as a liaison between the water school and the on-land school. It was simply coincidence that I was visiting and recognized your humble servant," she said quickly.

There was one way of verifying the truth that she knew the hanar would accept, and she searched for the memory, steadying herself before it took hold of her.

"A red dot dances, swoops across his head. The sun is warm on my skin as I step before the intended target. I can see nothing but brightness, my anger takes everything from me. 'How dare you? How dare you?' The dot trembles, vanishes and I take my leave. The shadows are cool and dark, then he is before me. 'Please,' he says. 'Please I must have your forgiveness.' His hand is warm on my skin, and I snatch myself away. 'I will not grant you forgiveness.' "

The memory released her, and she caught her breath, blinking out of the memory's brightness and back into the shadow.

She knew they were both watching her, the hanar and the killer. When she found the courage to raise her eyes the hanar was flashing green and blue with the slightest hint of pink, and Irikah finally allowed herself to look at the stranger.

He seemed confused, blinking down at her then looking back to the hanar.

After a moment the hanar spoke, and Irikah felt relief curl through her. "This one accepts your explanation. There is still the Compact to consider, if you would." It waved in the stranger's direction, and turned away.

"The terms of the Compact bind you to secrecy where matters of the Illuminated Primacy are concerned. Any breaches of this confidence will be treated with the utmost severity," the stranger said, and Irikah recognised at once the terms that she was bound to.

She bowed gracefully. "I am grateful for your benevolence, and can assure you that no such breach will be made. Please pardon the interruption."

She didn't risk turning her head, keeping her eyes fixed on the hanar whose colours were changing to indicate something along the lines of amusement, confusion and sympathy.

When Irikah reached the door she looked back at the footprints she had left on the immaculate floor, then back at the stranger who was watching her intently, his eyes reflecting the glimmering light

She couldn't offer him forgiveness, but she could give him this.


	4. Chapter 4

The air hung heavy and still, with only the faintest breeze to stir it. Irikah stretched, heard the low rumble of thunder in the distance, and then closed her eyes again, splaying her arms over her head.

Sleep was proving hard to find, and even harder to hold onto. In dreams her memories tangled together, weaving a web of things that had never happened and dragging her down into them. She was always looking for her mother, a futile chase that only served to wake her with lingering feelings of regret.

It was no use trying to sleep now. Irikah rose from the bed, stretched her limbs and sat looking at the picture beside her bed. It was her mother and father, arms tight around each other.

They looked so happy, just as she remembered them from her childhood. Irikah turned the picture face down then got slowly to her feet, dressing in a thin robe before wandering slowly in to her tiny kitchen. With a cup of tea in hand the memories would retreat to a safe distance, and she could attempt to escape their grasp.

It was the same dream that kept plaguing her. Walking through her parents' house, climbing the stairs looking for her mother only to find the stranger sitting in her place. He never said anything, simply stared at her with his dark, cold eyes.

Irikah sighed and poured the hot water into the small pot, stirring the tea in with practised movements. She had been doing her best not to think about him since her visit to the Illuminated Primacy, but her brain appeared to have other ideas.

A sharp crack of thunder made her jump, and she sloshed hot tea down herself just as the doorbell rang.

A small curse burst from her lips as she sprinted into her bedroom, threw a fresh robe on and ran to the door.

"Who is there, please?"

She paused, hand on the smooth wood of the door.

Her thoughts jumped back to her dream, and then returned to reality. He had no reason to come looking for her again.

"Who's there?"

There was a small sob, a twist of sound that had Irikah wrenching the door open.

Ennai stood there, one eye swollen shut and her lip bleeding. A cut ran down the side of her face, and on the red skin of her neck was what looked like a bite, the smooth flesh ragged and torn.

"Iri…"

Irikah couldn't help trilling as she guided her little sister into her apartment, a comforting hum of sound that she used whenever her children at school hurt themselves.

"Ennai, little one—what happened?" Irikah asked, guiding her sister to the sofa. She took Ennai's coat and stood over her, staring down in disbelief.

"I didn't know where else to go…He tried to…" Ennai sobbed, wiping at her face with bleeding hands.

The blood from her hands smeared across her face, and Irikah darted into the kitchen to grab the med kit she kept there.

When she returned Ennai was sobbing into her hands, her small figure hunched into a tiny ball amidst the brightly coloured cushions of the sofa. It broke Irikah's heart.

"Shush, it's okay now. You're safe here with me," Irikah crooned, taking a wipe from her kit and starting to clean her little sister's face. There was so much blood that it was hard to tell where one injury ended and another began, but she persevered.

"It was Dassan. He…he…"

"Dassan?" Irikah searched her memory. "The son of Master Bristos?"

Ennai nodded, wincing as Irikah applied a medi-gel bandage to her cheek. "I met him on the way home from school. He said he wanted to tell me a few things about the Guild before I started. I thought he was being kind!"

"So you met him. Then what?"

"He invited me to his home, and I…I went with him. I thought he was taking me there. Then we stopped on this street. I hadn't been there before. It was quiet and….he cornered me. I managed to fight him off," Ennai said, almost managing a smile before another sob overtook her.

Irikah felt her blood run cold, an icy fist clutching her heart. "Ennai, did he…did he?"

"No."

They looked at each other, a bright flash of lightning filling the room.

"I can't go home like this," Ennai said, lifting her head as Irikah dabbed medi-gel onto her neck. The skin was ripped, the delicate folds torn and bleeding. It would scar no matter what she treated it with, and Irikah felt rage burst through her.

"You can stay here as long as you need to, you know that. I'll call mother and tell her that you've decided to stay with me for a few days so we can go shopping for Guild."

Ennai burst into fresh tears at the word, covering her face. "How can I go there now? I'll see him every day. And if I say anything they won't let me in! Master Bristos is head of the Guild, Iri."

"We'll figure something out," Irikah said calmly, kissing her sister gently on the head. "Let me make you some tea."

Ennai nodded, and Irikah padded back to the kitchen where the teapot from earlier had grown cold. She emptied it and made another pot, her thoughts running over everything her sister had just told her.

She waited until Ennai fell asleep, curled up in her bed, before making her decision.

Irikah sat down, comm in hand, and made the call. "Cassil, I need to ask you a favour."

She was dozing on the sofa when her comm started beeping a few hours later, and her hand flashed out to grab it.

"Hello?"

An unfamiliar voice responded. "I believe you are looking for someone who can do you a favour. May I pass a message on to him?"

"Yes," Irikah said, looking through the doorway at her sleeping sister. "Tell him I have a have a job for him. Tell him it's from Irikah."


	5. Chapter 5

The light was already fading. The spring storms had started in earnest, robbing the afternoon of the milky brightness that usually filtered through the clouds at this time of year.

Irikah sat at her desk, safe in the golden bubble of light that her lamp had created in the darkening room. Papers covered her desk, reams of grammar that were starting to blur before her tired eyes. It had been a long few days, and she was behind after rushing home to Ennai two nights in a row.

The click of the door caught her attention, and when Irikah looked up he was there watching her from the shadows.

She stared at him, and then got to her feet. "Please, sit down."

He took the chair opposite her, resting his hands politely in his lap and remaining silent.

"You received my message?"

"I did."

Irikah glanced down at her work, unsure of what to do next. "I'm sorry; I don't even know who you are."

"My name is Thane Krios."

The silence resumed, and Irikah looked away from him as she weighed her words. "I need your help."

"My help? My services are, shall I say, specialised."

"I am aware of that," Irikah said, taking a deep breath. She was afraid of what she was getting into, and even more afraid that he might agree to her offer. "I can't discuss it here, perhaps you would accompany me somewhere more private?"

He examined her for a long moment, and Irikah couldn't help the shiver that ran through her.

"Of course."

Irikah forced herself up from her seat and started throwing things into her bag, no longer caring if she picked up all the work she had left to do. She wanted to get this over and done with so she could get him out of her life.

"Irikah?" He reached out, and pressed his fingertips to her arm. "Please, you need not be afraid of me. I mean you no harm."

"But what if somebody paid you enough?"

Thane's eyes flicked to her throat, and she couldn't help wondering if he was thinking of just that, snapping her neck and leaving her to cool in the darkness of her classroom.

"No…it isn't that simple. These situations are complex, if I am—"

"Good. That is exactly why I asked for your help," Irikah interrupted, swinging her bag up onto her shoulder. "Shall we?"

Thane nodded, his expression of surprise vanishing as quickly as it appeared. He followed her out into the street, his hands tucked behind his back as he walked beside her.

They walked silently through the streets until they reached the square where the larni trees grew, the square where she had first become aware of his existence.

The blooms had all fallen now, and the trees were weighed down by pale pink fruit. Some of them had fallen to the ground, leaving red splashes around the foot of the tree.

Irikah couldn't help stopping to look at them, the memory of that day heavy in her mind. "Did you kill him?"

Thane frowned, and turned away from her to scan the square with its scant gathering of people. That day it had been busy, filled with the sound of laughter and talk. Now it was nothing but shadow, and those rushing through it.

"Yes."

Irikah couldn't bring herself to say anything. The man she'd protected was dead, and the ripples of her actions still hadn't ceased. She was here now because of that day, but she couldn't help wondering if others had died because of her.

"He killed no others. I made sure of that," Thane assured her. It was meagre reassurance considering it had still ended with a death.

She set off again, questioning the wisdom of inviting Thane into her apartment. Then she remembered the sound of her sister crying at night, the torn flesh at her throat, and decided the risk was worth it if she could offer Ennai some peace.

Her apartment was messier than she remembered. Books littered every available surface, and she'd left numerous tunics across the back of her sofa. Thane attempted to sit down, but was forced to move an empty cup she had abandoned there that morning.

"Let me take that," Irikah said, whisking it from his hand and retreating to the kitchen. She had an assassin sitting in her apartment. There was nothing else to do but fall back on what she knew best.

Irikah prepared tea. She let the ritual soothe her, and by the time she fetched the tray out to the cluttered table in the centre of the room she had regained some semblance of calm.

She knelt beside the table, swept her sleeve aside and poured two cups of tea.

Thane accepted his cup with a small nod, then waited for her to take the first sip before setting it down in one of the few spaces left before him.

"I am curious as to why you need my help. I assume you exhausted all the usual methods first."

"Actually you were the first person I thought of," Irikah admitted, rocking back on her heels. "This situation isn't one I can deal with. My sister was attacked on the way home from school. Her attacker attends the Tira Guild that she is, or was, hoping to enrol in."

Thane frowned but remained silent.

"The father of the attacker is a Master at the guild. If we were to make this public it would damage Ennai's chances of attending the guild. I can't allow that to happen. This is all she's ever wanted, she's trained since she was a barely five years old."

"You are seeking revenge on behalf of your sister?"

Irikah couldn't help glaring at him. "Revenge? No. I want her to have what she has always dreamed of without him ruining it for her. If she goes there without saying anything she will have to face him every day, knowing that he got away with it."

"Do you wish me to kill him?"

"No," Irikah snapped, biting down on her temper. She pressed the cup to her lips, and felt the warmth of the tea spread through her as she took a long, deliberate, sip before replying. "No killing. No bloodshed. There must be another way of dealing with this, and I thought you could help me figure that out."

"I see. Legal redress would be time consuming, costly and above all public."

"Exactly. The stress would be too much for my family," Irikah said softly. "There's also the fact that we can't afford it."

"That leaves few options. A simple threat should suffice, unless the attacker believes himself above the law," Thane said, leaning back against the bright cushions of the sofa.

"A threat should suffice," Irikah repeated, gazing into her cup. "But what if he considers himself 'above the law' as you say?"

"What are their names?"

She hesitated. "Dassan Bristos. I don't know the full name of his father."

"I could investigate them. I have contacts who could provide me with information that may prove useful."

Irikah nodded slowly. "And would you be the one doing the threatening?" She allowed herself to look at Thane, at the quiet creature sitting in her front room.

"Perhaps. Do you find me threatening?"

"You kill people for a living."

"There you are wrong. My body kills them, with Amonkira's blessing," Thane said, irritation in his voice.

"Ah, the old ways," Irikah said, realisation dropping into place. "Now everything makes sense. _Arashu, mother of all. Her eyes shine as the desert sun. You shall find her with the waking of a newborn, and in the harvest. When her eyes look upon you, so you shall be safe." _

Thane watched her, his lips moving slightly.

"That's why you wanted my forgiveness isn't it?" Irikah pressed, feeling oddly deflated. Her mother had told her the tales of Arashu as she was growing up, and there had been a time when she had believed in the tales of this yellow-eyed goddess.

When she was small it had been a novelty for strangers to touch her star for luck, but those days were long gone, as was her faith. Instead she had to put up with people using her as some sort of good luck charm, when she was simply a genetic oddity like the other women in her family.

"Your eyes alone? No. You faced death for a stranger. You challenged me as no one else has," Thane said, leaning forwards. "Now you have called me here to ask for my help…" He frowned, and Irikah wondered if she had said something wrong.

"I have no problem with the old ways."

"But you don't share them? Are you of the new faith?"

"No," Irikah said, putting her cup down on the tray and refilling it before adding to Thane's. "The gods have no sway over me. Thane—will you help me?"

"Why should I help you? Do you believe I owe you a debt of some kind? That my quest for your forgiveness binds me to your will?" Thane asked, all politeness gone now.

"No. You owe me nothing. I ask because I have no one else to ask. I have to do something for her, I have to try," Irikah said, forcing her tears back. She'd seen no other way of dealing with this, and she could not simply sit back and watch her little sister withdraw into herself. "I will beg, if that's what you want. My forgiveness? You can have it. I have to help Ennai, and I don't know how to do it without your help."

Thane sighed and pressed his fingertips together. "I will see what I can find out. Irikah, I do not do this for your forgiveness or your mercy. I would rather earn them than have you fling them at me as though they mean nothing."

He got to his feet and Irikah scrambled to rise, her legs stiff after being seated in the same position for so long. "Thank you. I—"

"How shall I contact you?" Thane asked, retreating behind his polite mask again.

Irikah crossed to her desk and wrote her contact details carefully, handing them to him.

He took one look, then handed them back to her with a small nod before heading towards the door. "I will be in touch when I return."

"Yes. Thank you," Irikah said, accompanying him to the door. He stepped out into the darkness without fear, moving to leave her.

"Wait, Thane."

He turned, watching her expectantly.

"The man you killed, the one I tried to save. What was his name?"

"I cannot discuss contracts," Thane said simply, turning his back to her. "Why did you stop me? Why not walk away and let Amonkira have his due?"

Irikah looked down the street outside, at the bright splashes of light in the darkness. "I couldn't let you kill him, not when I could stop you. Whoever he was and whatever he did, he had a life and he had children. He had someone he loved waiting for him to come home."

"_When her eyes look upon you, so you shall be safe. _Goodnight Irikah."

Thane melted into the shadows, and Irikah found herself waiting on the doorstep listening for the sound of his footsteps leaving her. She was left with nothing but silence.


	6. Chapter 6

Her father greeted her at the door, his smile in place even as his eyes betrayed his pain.

The sickly smell of illness filled the house, tainting everything it touched, and Irikah knew she would have to wash the moment she got home. It was worse, much worse than she remembered.

"How is she today?" Irikah asked, taking her coat off and tossing it aside.

A cough floated down from upstairs and she turned her head at the sound. It went on for too long, harsh and rasping. Her father folded in on himself, his hands over his face. He was muttering something, and Irikah thought she caught the word 'Kalahira.'

Irikah took off up the stairs, leaving him behind. His gods could do nothing for her now. They never could.

"Mother, it's okay. I'm here," Irikah soothed, crossing to her mother's side and helping her with the breather mask that covered her wasted face, prolonging the inevitable.

Irikah trailed her fingers over the curves of her mother's face, drawing lines across the brow and up to the star on her forehead. The constant rattle of her mother's breath eased a fraction, and Irikah smiled at her, finding those luminous eyes fixed on hers.

Even in the fading darkness of her life they shone, but now they burnt with a fear and desperation that broke her heart. Her mother was suffering, gasping out her last breaths as she was slowly suffocated by her own broken body. It was no end to a life, and once again Irikah wondered if there was a way of ending the pain rather than watching her die slowly.

If it had been her, as one day it might be, she would beg for release. It seemed a cruelty not to wish the same for her mother.

She heard her mother whisper something, her weak fingers struggling at the mask.

Irikah glanced at the doorway, and then moved the mask carefully from her mother's face. "Don't worry, I'm here. What is it?"

She whispered again, and Irikah moved her head closer to try and catch the broken wisp of sound.

"The sea, the sea…"

"Would you like to see it?" Irikah asked her.

Her mother nodded, and Irikah made up her mind. She put the mask down to one side, peeled the covers back, and with a soft grunt she lifted the frail form of her mother.

She weighed so very little, less than the children at school that Irikah scooped up and swung round in her arms. Now she was holding her mother, and the memories rose up in a painful rush.

_Her mother carrying her back to bed after a nightmare, strong arms holding all the monsters at bay and chasing the fear from the darkness. The warmth of her body as she curled up in bed beside her. The hands that had always found hers when she needed them_.

Now Irikah held her as she would her own child, cradling her against the crook of her neck as they crossed to the window and the view of the sea it offered.

It glimmered, gold and green beyond the mighty dome that covered them, and Irikah heard her mother whisper a prayer, beseeching Kalahira to come and claim her, voice faltering.

"Irikah! What are you…"

Her father's shout startled her, but she held her mother tightly. She wouldn't let her fall.

"She wanted to see the sea," Irikah told him, allowing her father to take her from his arms and return her to bed.

Her mother had fallen quiet now, her strained breath the only indication that she was still alive. Her golden eyes had closed, filled with the sight of the sea that she believed was beckoning to her.

Her father laid the covers tenderly over the slender form of his wife, and he pressed a kiss to her face before looking up at Irikah with an expression of barely controlled rage.

"She wanted to see the sea," Irikah muttered as he took her arm, and led her from the room.

"She is dying, and you take her out of bed for some sightseeing? How can you be so foolish?" he fumed, spinning away from her. "She needs to rest!"

"I'm not the one being foolish," Irikah said, digging her nails into her palms. "How can you let her suffer like that? She's in pain, and she wants it to end. What are you waiting for? Kalahira? Your merciful goddess? Where is she now? Why isn't she answering your prayers?"

Her father stiffened, and Irikah raised her chin, waiting for his response.

"Stupid, impatient child. The gods will do as they see fit, if they deem that she must stay here with us a little longer then that is their decision."

"Then their decision is wrong!" Irikah shouted. "She wants to die, not when they decide, but now."

"Irikah." Her father turned, his face crumpled as he placed his hand gently on her shoulder. "I have tolerated your opinions on our beliefs, I have never forced them upon you or asked that you do anything you don't want to. So, I ask you now, please respect ours. Let this happen as it must. Kalahira knows what must be done, and she will not fail us."

The sound of her mother coughing filled the air, and Irikah bowed her head. This was not about her. Though she might scream and yell about the fate they had been given, like her father's prayers it would be of no use. Irikah felt the anger drain from her to be replaced by grief. "Yes, Father. Please forgive me."

He kissed her head, and Irikah threw her arms around him, clinging to him as she did when she was a little girl.

"How could I not forgive you?" he murmured, rubbing her back. "Now, enough arguing. Ennai has made you some tea, go."

He slipped back into her mother's room, and Irikah descended the stairs slowly, listening carefully. She heard the low rumble of her father's voice and the comforting trill that she knew so well.

Ennai was waiting for her in the kitchen, curled up in a chair with a steaming pot of tea in front of her. She gave Irikah a quick glance, and from her expression she knew that Ennai had heard every word.

"Here," Ennai said, holding out a fresh cup of tea. They sat in silence, both of them inhaling the tea before Ennai took the first sip. "It won't be long now."

"I know, it's just—"

"It is hard seeing her like that. He sees her every day. He knows her better than we ever will, so if he says that is what she wants then we have to respect that."

Irikah nodded, wiping tears from her face. She was tired of the way things were, the creeping illness that had overshadowed them for so long, and selfishly or not she wanted it over.

"You know, you could move back here for a little while," Ennai suggested. Irikah looked up at her, turning the idea over in her mind.

Her comm beeped in the quiet, and she raised her wrist to find a message from Thane.

_I have information for you. Where do you wish to meet?_

Irikah stared at the screen, aware of Ennai watching her. She replied quickly, keeping her eyes down. _At the Glass House. As soon as possible._

_I will be there within the hour._

"What is it?" Ennai asked, her voice filled with concern.

"It's nothing. Ennai, I have to go out."

"But you'll be back? You promised you'd stay to eat."

Irikah merely hummed in agreement, darting back into the living room to grab her coat.

The air outside was fresh, free of the cloying scent of illness, and Irikah felt something break free in her chest as she walked away from the house. Her mother had been so light in her arms, almost a ghost.

By the time she reached the Glass House guilt had started to pry its way into her mind, the image of her father's face playing through her mind. She'd been a fool to say those things to him.

Irikah realized vaguely that they hadn't agreed a place to meet, and she wandered unseeing through the maze of green houses. This was usually her favourite place to visit, a vast sprawl of glass houses filled with plants native to Rakhana.

Her feet took their usual path, and she found herself in front of her favourite display – the orchids. In pride of place was the thing she always came to see, a plant that she coveted. The Damalia orchid. It had been an early casualty of drell expansion on Rakhana, and as a result there were only five horticulturalists with permission to propagate them, making them one of the rarest orchids in the galaxy.

It stood proud amidst the others, a dazzling profusion of purple flowers that burst with a golden centre. Irikah closed her eyes and breathed in the scent as she stood at the railing wishing to forget.

"Irikah?"

She opened her eyes at the sound of Thane's voice, and found him standing beside her. His face was grotesquely swollen on one side and covered with a fine film of medi-gel bandages, almost unrecognizable from the creature she'd invited into her house.

"Thane? What happened?" Irikah asked. She caught some of the other visitors staring at them, and she returned their looks with a scowl.

He took her elbow and led her slowly away, past the orchids and down through a leafy passage lined with seats. Most of them were free, but Thane steered her to the one furthest away from the nearest occupants, sitting down with a slight grimace.

Irikah sat next to him, and examined his face closely. "How did this happen?"

Thane looked at her and winced, his shoulders drooping. "I do not wish to talk about it. Here, I brought this for you."

He handed her a slim file and resumed his restless watch over the path, his back curved as he leant over and touched his hands together.

She'd wanted an answer. It surprised her, as did his rejection of her enquiry. Irikah sat back and turned her attention to the file, opening it to find a picture of Master Bristos and a page of text.

She scanned the words but nothing would sink in. "What am I looking at?"

"Master Bristos has no useful history. His career has been exemplary, and his work nothing out of the ordinary. Turn the page."

Irikah did so, and found herself looking at a picture of Dassan. She felt anger stir as a reflex, her fingers crumpling the paper where she clutched it. It had his birth date listed, and a small description of his school career so far.

Underneath that was a small section about his family.

"It appears Dassan has done this before, though the results were less obvious," she heard Thane say. "No long term harm was done, and his father was able to make an arrangement with the family."

The words on the page started to blur, and Irikah raised a hand to wipe the tears from her face.

The day had been long, and there had been little comfort. Now she was sitting with an assassin. This was not where she should be. This was not what she should be doing at a time like this.

"I…I can't do this today. Is there another time we could meet?" She was unable to keep the emotion from thrumming through her voice, and she couldn't help cursing the peculiarities of the drell voice.

Thane swivelled to look at her, surprise written across his face. He stared at her in silence, and Irikah raised her hands to block his gaze.

"I…of course." He sat back, his shoulder touching hers, and she heard the uncertainty and distress through every layer of his voice. "Can I…" He hesitated, then took hold of her hand. Her throat tightened with grief.

This wasn't the place to fall apart. Irikah clutched his hand as she fought for control, and stared down at the floor.

"She wanted to see the sea."

"Irikah," Thane murmured. "I am sorry if I said anything to upset you."

"My mother is dying," Irikah said, still staring down at the ground. "She has Kepral's. She doesn't have long left, and I only seem to make things worse."

"Ah, I see. I am sorry."

"You don't have to be sorry, but thank you," Irikah managed, her voice still heavy. She took a moment to regain her composure, then took her hand from Thane's and tucked the file under her arm. "I should get back. I promised Ennai I'd eat with them."

Thane nodded distractedly, and got to his feet. They retraced their steps, walking back past the orchids where Irikah stopped to take another look at the Damalia orchid.

"Once these would have been everywhere you looked on Rakhana. How beautiful it must have been," Irikah mused, tearing her gaze away. Thane was watching her, his expression unreadable beneath the injuries.

"I visited Rakhana last year," he admitted, setting off again. "I confess I saw little of the flora. It would have made for a lovelier sight than the one that greeted me."

"Were you there for work?" Irikah asked, weaving through the crowd towards the exit.

"No. It was a pilgrimage of sorts. The hanar send everyone under the terms of the compact. Whether or not it is a token of gratitude, or as a reminder, I could not say. Have you been there?"

Irikah stopped and looked up at the far roof of the dome. The sky beyond was a pale grey, the only sky she'd ever seen. "I haven't. I'm not sure I'd want to. I've never even left Kahje. Thank you, Thane." She held her fingertips out to him. "I will be in touch as soon as I can."

Thane touched his hands to hers and gave her a bow, this time waiting for her to go first.

She hesitated, unwilling to go home but unable to go anywhere else.

"Thane?"

He hummed, rocking on his heels.

"Your face—I hope you heal quickly. May the day find you well."

"And you."

Irikah set off for home, the folder still under her arm. She had no idea what she was going to do about Dassan, but she did know what she was going to do about her mother.

The house was quiet when she got back, the faint scent of food drifting out of the kitchen.

"Father? Ennai?"

"Up here," her father, and she climbed the stairs to her mother's room where her family sat quietly around the bed.

"Mother, I'm moving back in."


	7. Chapter 7

The news was the same. Irikah ended her third call of the day with a sigh, imagining her eldest sister climbing the stairs and heading back to their mother.

The doctor had visited last night and pronounced that they were entering the final stage, before supplying them with information and supplies for the coming days. The only thing that Irikah had paid any attention to was her mother's gasping as she lay unmoving in the bed.

She had gone into work to make her final preparations, knowing that she would soon be called away for the death rituals. Like it or not, life would carry on without her.

"Lady Ektrepho?"

A courier stood at the door holding a box in his arms.

"Oh, yes, come in."

"This is for you. Please could you confirm delivery?" the courier asked, placing the box on the desk and holding out a datapad to her.

Irikah pressed her fingertips to the pad, looking at the box for clues as she waited for her prints to be verified.

"Thank you, may the day find you well," the courier said.

"And you," Irikah said vaguely, turning her back to him.

She had no idea who could be sending her a parcel, though she supposed it must be supplies that she had forgotten about. She'd redirected her family's post to the school so that they would remain undisturbed.

The box had no details on the outside apart from a small catch fitted with another small datapad, offering no information about the sender or the contents.

Irikah turned the datapad over in her fingers then pressed her thumb to it as the screen lit up. After a second the datapad beeped, and the catch clicked open.

There was a hiss as she lifted the lid, and a puff of humid air that rose to fill the room with a strong scent. Inside the box was a layer of gossamer film she recognised from the plant nursery she visited on occasion, designed to keep the contents at the desired humidity level. It was expensive, and she'd usually relied on getting her specimens home as fast as possible instead of purchasing it.

Irikah leant over the side of the box and pulled the film back carefully.

Nestled at the bottom of the box was a Damalia orchid.

She couldn't help the laugh that burst from her lips, a sound of sheer delight that she hadn't felt in months.

Tucked in amongst the flowers was a paper flower, her name curling across it in unfamiliar script. Irikah ran her fingers over it, brushing over the familiar letters of her name before making her decision. The orchid needed tending to. The note could wait.

She carried it reverently into the greenhouse and laid it gently on her workbench before gathering her tools in a dazed rush, fearing that when she turned around it would all be a dream.

Yet there it stayed, exactly where she'd put it.

It was the most stunning example of its type that she had ever seen. There was no sign of flaws or die off on its leaves, and every flower was intact.

Her initial joy started to fade away, overwhelmed by the sudden worry she felt looking at it. Not only was this orchid expensive, but it would make the school a target for collectors, and she still had no idea where it had come from.

Irikah set the orchid on a low shelf in the green house, surrounded it with plants, and rubbed her hands on her tunic as she dashed back through to read the message that had come with it.

The paper flower was a perfect copy of the one that Thane had returned to her, and she remembered the ghost of his fingertips on hers as she peeled each petal back gently to uncover the message folded carefully away in its centre.

_For you, may it bring you peace when all around is dark. Thane._

Her comm started flashing, and she saw the name on the incoming call.

"Brina?"

"Irikah…you need to come now."

Her eldest sister sounded unsteady, her voice about to break, and Irikah felt the certainty of the coming moment lodge itself under her skin. Everything was about to fracture. The world would come undone while remaining exactly the same.

"I'll be there as soon as I can," Irikah said, already on her feet.

Irikah threw herself through the door, straight into the waiting arms of her sister.

"Is she…"

"Not yet, but it won't be long. Go to her."

She took off up the stairs, running into her mother's room. They were all there, gathered around the bed in the golden glow of lamp light. Tivan, Ennai, her father, and finally Brina. Her mother lay still, the low rasp of her breath rising and falling as they sat and watched over her, hands clasped.

Irikah felt time drift apart, and she raised her eyes to look at the sky outside. In the gathering blackness she saw a solitary star twinkling before the veil of cloud fell over it, and covered the sky.

"Mara?" Her father's voice shattered the silence, and when Irikah looked back at her mother the rise of her chest had ceased. "Mara….Mara!" His voice broke, and Irikah heard their voices raise in a cry even as hers died on her lips.

For the first time in her life she watched her father disintegrate, her sister trying to catch him as he fell, and she heard the ragged wailing from Ennai as if from somewhere far away.

Somewhere outside in the darkness, the sea they had looked at together kept its steady hold of the beach. She knew what she had to say, and though she placed no faith in those words she knew what her mother would have wanted.

As the others fell apart Irikah rose.

"Kalahira, mistress of inscrutable depths, guide her in her journey, as she guided us in ours. Hold her safe in your arms, at this the end of one life and the start of another. Kalahira, reaper of life, anoint her. Let her rest where the traveller never tires, the loves never leaves, the hungry never starve. Guide this one Kalahira, and she will be a companion to you as she was to me."

Outside, in the dark sky, the clouds parted long enough for her to see the stars.

A weight lifted in her chest, and Irikah let out her breath as she crossed slowly to her mother's side and kissed the cooling star upon her head. "I love you. I always will. Wait for me, wherever you are."


	8. Chapter 8

Voices filled the air, emotions coursing through them. Standing beside the stove, spoon in hand and the smell of food rising from the pan in front of her, Irikah could hear their sorrow as clearly as if she had been in the room with them. There was one voice that remained absent.

There was no sound from her father. Irikah knew that, if she were to stray out, she would find her father sitting silently amongst the crowds of relatives, a dark shadow amidst the brightness of her family.

He had barely spoken since his wife's death, had suffered through the sea ritual without a word, and now he was spending his days lost in memory. Even surrounded by his family he preferred to cling to the fragments that he had left. Irikah could not help but worry for him.

This was the last day of mourning. Once the family left she had to say something to Brina. Perhaps she should break tradition and stay with him.

Irikah sloshed stew out of the pan and cursed as it landed on her tunic, only succeeding in making it worse as she tried to wipe it off.

"Iri?"

Ennai had crept in next to her. She'd been almost as bad as their father, hiding in her room and only coming out when required.

Irikah slipped her arm around her with a comforting trill.

"What is it, little one?"

"I just spoke to my friend Myrna."

Irikah hummed, stirring the stew and sniffing at it. Something was missing.

"She told me that Dassan has been removed from the Guild, and his father has left. Iri…"

Irikah dropped the spoon into the stew, splashing them both with scalding hot liquid.

"Oh Ennai, I'm sorry," Irikah babbled, racing across to the basin and grabbing a wet cloth. She dabbed at her sister, holding the cool cloth to her skin.

With everything that had happened she had given little thought to Dassan, but if this were true then she had no cause to worry about him ever again. Whilst that was a relief, it also seemed very convenient.

"Did Myrna say why they left?" Irikah asked, turning back to the stew, using a fork to fish out the spoon.

"Master Bristos decided to retire. She did say something about Dassan having 'behavioural problems.' He's been sent to an academy in Nofus," Ennai said.

Irikah turned to look at her sister. "Does this mean you'll be attending Guild now?"

Ennai frowned, then her lips twitched upwards in a small smile. "It does."

"Good. Now, go and tell everyone that the food is ready," Irikah said, squeezing her sister, and sending her on her way. She watched her leave the room, every word sinking in.

There was the distinct possibility that Thane had done this, and if her suspicions were correct then she owed him more than she could say. She had not expected him to take matters into his own hands. This was her issue to deal with.

Once this was all done she would have to contact him, but first there were traditions to observe and relatives to feed. Thane would have to wait.

-0-

She'd chosen the restaurant purely because it reminded her of her mother. Lately she seemed to be purposely searching out traces of her, and the memory of her hung there in the air like the fragrant smoke from the braziers.

It permeated everything, from the soft cushions of the nook she was sitting in to the dark beams that crossed the ceiling.

Her mother had often come from home with the scent still clinging to her skin, and Irikah smiled at the thought. It was an easier memory than those last days, days she was hoping to blot out by retracing her mother's steps.

She'd already ordered a drink—a warm golden wine that her mother had preferred. The sweetness stayed in her mouth and warmed her throat, whispering through her bloodstream. It was pleasant, sitting in the shadows waiting.

Thane arrived exactly on time. He scanned the room with a searching glance before taking his seat beside her.

"Thank you for meeting me," Irikah said, pouring him a glass of wine. He accepted it with a slight nod of his head, and cupped the glass carefully between both hands. He put it down, then picked it up again, frowning.

"How is your mother?" he asked eventually, his gaze flickering between her and his drink.

"She has passed over the sea," Irikah said.

He opened his mouth to speak, and she expected him to come out with the usual platitudes offered by those of the old faith.

"I am sorry she has gone from you," he said quietly and Irikah sighed with relief. She didn't want to hear about Kalahira anymore. She wanted someone to acknowledge the fact that they were the ones left behind hurting. It surprised her that that person should be Thane.

"It is never easy, losing touch with those we love."

"I miss her," Irikah admitted. "I have her memory; she's still in here but…" Irikah touched her chest. "It isn't the same."

"How are your family?" Thane asked, setting his drink to one side and lacing his fingers together.

"My father is finding it hard to accept."

"And Ennai?"

"She is better than I expected. Thane, I wanted to talk to you about Dassan." Irikah took the file out and placed it carefully on the table. "We didn't have a chance to finish our last conversation."

He said nothing, his face utterly blank.

"Ennai spoke to me a few days ago. She said that Dassan had been moved to a different school, and that Master Bristos had taken retirement. His file stated he had another seven years before retirement," Irikah said, taking a sip of her drink. "I wondered if you knew anything about this."

Thane touched his hands to the file then sat back, gazing around the room. The restaurant was almost full, but Irikah had chosen the table carefully. It was set back from the rest and shadowed save for the small light on the table.

"I had hoped to ease your burden," Thane said, his voice barely audible. "When we last met you were distressed, and I took it upon myself to deal with the situation. I apologise if it was presumptuous of me."

"What did you do?"

"I asked a mutual contact to explain the situation. There were no names mentioned, though I asked that it be made clear that he had few options if he wished to keep his reputation intact," Thane said, his fingers drumming lightly on the file.

Irikah reached out and stilled his hand. "Why are you so nervous?"

"I was worried you might be angry with me for taking matters into my own hands," Thane said. His voice held unexpected emotion.

"I'm not angry. I admit I was surprised, but I'm not angry with you. Thank you, for doing this for me and my family." She squeezed his fingers, a rush of warmth washing over her.

Thane stared at her in surprise, and Iri took her hand away, regretting her choice of wine instead of tea. She needed to keep her head clear when it came to Thane.

He had gone still beside her, his fingers curled where she had touched them.

"There was another thing I wanted to talk to you about. The orchid."

Thane's neck flushed, and she knew that he was as uncomfortable as she.

"I can't keep it. The school can't afford the security it needs, and I can't keep it at home."

He looked disappointed, and she felt him withdraw from her a fraction. "I thought it would please you—"

"It does, Thane, it isn't that I don't like it. It's the most beautiful thing I've ever seen," Irikah explained. "But that is the problem. I can't keep it safe, and I don't want anything to happen to it."

He looked at her, disappointment replaced by thoughtfulness, and Irikah couldn't stop herself from smiling at him.

"You're going to tell me you have a contact that can help."

"Perhaps. If that is what you wish to hear," Thane said, a smile threatening to break out across his face as he cast his gaze over the restaurant.

She looked at him. The stranger who had gained a name. He had somehow found his way into her life, and given her something she needed and something she wanted, yet she had given him nothing.

"It is," Irikah replied, and he half-laughed, stealing glances at her.

"Would you like to stay and eat with me?" she asked on impulse. "I'm going to order everything my mother liked, and I don't think I can manage it all alone."

"I would like that."

She had no need of the menu, instead choosing everything from memory. The waiter appeared surprised by the vast quantity of food she ordered, but Irikah found she no longer cared. She wanted to lose herself in the memories of her mother, to taste them on her tongue and bring something of her back.

Thane smiled as she ordered, and resumed his watch over the restaurant.

Irikah took another sip of wine. It had been the perfect choice after all.

"What you said earlier, about losing touch with those we love," Irikah said, emboldened by the alcohol. "Who have you lost?"

Thane considered the question, picking up his wine glass and tilting it between his fingertips. "I passed into the guardianship of the hanar at the age of six."

"Ah, the Compact."

"Yes. My family made some effort to remain in contact. At first. After a while I had little to say to them, and they to me. Our lives took very different paths," Thane told her, his voice tinged with regret. "I have not heard from them in years, and I have had no reason to assume they wish to break their silence."

Irikah tried to imagine a life without family, and failed. They were the pattern that gave life structure, the safety net when things went wrong. They were the heart beating beneath her skin, and the thought of living without that was incomprehensible to her.

"I'm sorry."

"You needn't be," Thane replied, but Irikah was not convinced.

The waiter brought a large tray of food over, and within moments there was no space left on the table. She had no choice but to move the bottle of wine to the floor to make space, taking care to place it under the table.

The smells were incredible. Irikah hardly knew where to start, her fingers hovering over one plate then another. Eventually she settled on one that she knew her mother had favoured; crisp fragments of fish scattered with seaweed and fragrant herbs.

"Please, take whatever you like," Irikah entreated, helping herself to a large forkful of food. Thane followed suit, and they sat in silence for a while as they tasted the dishes before them.

She was never going to manage it all, but she didn't care. As the flavours filled her mouth she couldn't help remembering the memories shared with her mother.

Iri looked up with a smile, and before she could stop herself a memory tumbled from her lips. "_Candles flicker, her eyes golden in the light. 'Eat up, Iri. Try this,' she says, and I open my mouth. I can taste the sea. She watches me with a smile._"

"Your mother…what was she like?" Thane asked, reaching for the wine bottle at their feet and refilling her glass.

"She was stubborn. She thought she knew what was best for all of us. Maybe she did," Irikah mused, remembering the way her mother would chastise them.

"She had eyes like mine, and she was not shy when it came to using them. I remember when she bought an ornament for the front room, it was the ugliest thing you've ever seen, but she loved it. It cost half my father's wages for the month, and when he found out…"

Iri couldn't help laughing at the memory of her father's rage, and the impetuous glare he had received in response. Her mother had a way of quelling them with that look, the one they secretly called her Arashu glare. When she looked like that it was easy to see why people treated them as they did. As special. As Arashu herself.

"Well, he didn't stay angry for long," Irikah admitted. Her parents had melted away together like smoke after the very short argument, and she couldn't help the smallest stab of loneliness. "She would have liked you," Irikah said, and she immediately felt she'd gone too far.

Her mother _would_ have liked him. His quiet, respectful manner, and the way he revered the old ways. There was only the small matter of the fact that Thane was an assassin, and even that wouldn't have bothered her for long. She had married a soldier.

"I will take that as a compliment," Thane said graciously, wiping his mouth with a napkin. "Your description reminds me of someone else. Stubborn. Quick to chastise."

"Ah." Irikah looked down at the table, and waited for a moment to let the emotion subside from her voice. "I suppose I should take that as a compliment."

Thane smiled, his fingers curling closer to hers, and the small sound of his comm broke the moment.

"My apologies. I must take this," Thane said, getting to his feet and vanishing across the restaurant.

Irikah watched him leave, then covered her face with her hands. She was slightly drunk, just enough to set her blood humming, or that was what she chose to believe.

Thane was blood in blossoms, dangerous and beautiful. He spoke of absence, but his eyes spoke of loneliness. She couldn't help but want to ease that, to slip closer and smooth the troubles from him. He was no Besyat but something else, something finer and more potent, and she had no place entertaining feelings for him.

"Irikah?"

She jerked her head up to find Thane standing beside the table, his hands tucked away behind him. He was swaying slightly, though she could no longer tell if it was the alcohol or the way he seemed to tilt towards her.

"I must leave. I will be in touch about the orchid."

"Oh." She glanced at the table, at the half-eaten food and the empty seat across from her. "Yes, thank you."

Thane laid a hand on her shoulder. "I am sorry to leave you. I would stay, if I could."

That would have to be enough. She opened her mouth, unable to find the right words, and Thane tightened his grip.

"Goodbye, Irikah."

"Goodbye," she said faintly, not watching him leave. Her memories had become tangled with him. Now when she visited she would no longer see just her mother watching her across the table, but Thane, his dark eyes and his hand moving closer to hers.

She hadn't had a chance to reach back for him. Thane had left her again.


	9. Chapter 9

The message from Thane arrived in the dead of night.

_Have the orchid ready, my associate will be with you at the close of the day._

Irikah lay back in bed and let relief wash over her at the thought of the orchid finally being removed from the school. The simple presence of it, such a precious specimen tucked away in the back of her insecure glasshouse, had weighed on her from the moment Thane sent it.

Now she was allowing him to help her keep it. She couldn't help the small shudder when she remembered the last time he had touched her. That there was desire she couldn't deny, but there was also the thought of what he did with those hands, and it was not one she could ignore.

Most of the creatures he touched would not feel glad of it. They would not be at the receiving end of his tender mercy. Beneath Thane's hands their lives flickered out, and she knew that whilst he lived as an assassin there was no permitting things to go any further.

That led her to question what it was she was doing exactly. There had been no promise to meet again in future, only an offer of help that she had given in to. She blamed the wine, and the sorrow, and the loneliness.

She swept her arm across the empty bed and rose, turning her back to it as she prepared for the day ahead. There was no entertaining the thoughts of him with her, of his hands on her once again.

-0-0-0-

Irikah stood in the failing light outside the school, the orchid boxed up and weighing her down. There had been no contact from Thane or his associate all day, and she was starting to worry that he had given away her home address when a transport swooped into sight.

It was not the usual silver livery of the taxi service, but a sleek black affair that landed with a quiet hiss.

Her comm beeped, and she shifted the box under her arm so that she could look at it.

_Go with him._

The door opened, and to her surprise a salarian clambered out. "I've been sent to pick you up," he said in a high, reedy, tone. "Lady Ektrepho?"

She looked at him, at the transport, and Thane's message still blinking on her comm. "Yes, I'm sorry."

"I'm Garsta. My employer sent me to collect you. Is that the orchid?" he asked politely, glancing at the box.

"It is. Shall we?" Irikah said. She clambered into the transport, keeping a tight hold of the box. It was awkward with all her bags, but she refused to let go of the orchid just yet.

Garsta got into the pilot seat and they lifted off with a smooth rush, turning and heading out over the lights that were starting to prickle through the night. From up there the city became a stranger, and Irikah felt a trace of apprehension.

She was in a transport with a salarian she'd never met, her ridiculously expensive orchid on her lap, going to an unknown destination, and worst of all she had trusted a killer's word to get her into this.

The disorientation of the last few months hit her. Irikah shut her eyes. Her sister had been attacked, her mother had died, and somehow she'd fallen in with a government assassin.

"Are you well?"

The salarian sounded concerned, and Irikah made an effort to gather herself. "I am fine, a little tired."

"I see. Not far now."

They cleared the city dome, passing through one of the mighty gates, and out over the ocean. From the looks of it they were approaching one of the smaller biomes that fringed the city, a fair way from her home but still accessible.

Once inside Irikah stared down at the unfamiliar houses and streets. They finally came to a halt beside a large glasshouse that backed onto an imposing residential dwelling, and the mere sight of the glasshouse was enough to allay her fear. It looked beautiful, a confection of spired glass and misty depths broken only by the green reach of plants.

Garsta opened the transport doors and stood quietly beside her as she stared at the building before her.

She was still staring when the door to the glasshouse opened in front of her, and a hanar walked smoothly out.

"Lady Ektrepho. This one is pleased to meet with you at last," it said.

Irikah dropped into a bow of greeting. "It is an honour," she responded, straightening and regarding the hanar with polite interest. If he was pleased to meet her at last then he had her at a distinct disadvantage, unless he was simply being polite. With the hanar it was not always easy to tell, but his luminescence carried no traces of deception.

"Please follow, your space is not far."

Irikah nodded, and followed him into the glasshouse. The humidity hit her instantly, and she inhaled the rich scents of the foliage that surrounded them.

There were trees and shrubs the like of which she had never seen before. Some she recognised from books, but others that must have been alien species.

They wound down a small path, joining with a broad walkway lined with pots and what looked to be humidifier units.

"Here," the hanar said, stopping in front of a glass door. "You should enter first, to make sure it is appropriate."

Irikah pulled the orchid to her, and stepped through the doorway. Inside was a work space, display shelves lining the walls and large workbench islanded in the middle. It was pristine, fully stocked, and on the work bench sat a box with a paper flower on top.

"This…is this…."

"Your associate had strict specifications. This one hopes they have been met," the hanar said. Irikah turned to look at him. He had called Thane her associate.

Iri set the orchid down, and bowed deeply to the hanar. "Permit me to ask what these specifications were, and, if I may, what my associate has said of me."

"He asked that you be given your own space, with security measures in place. This glasshouse has the highest security levels, of that there is no doubt. He also asked that you be afforded every courtesy with regards to your tenancy here."

"Tenancy?"

"All fees have been covered. Should you wish to terminate the contract and move your collection elsewhere there will be no fee." The hanar shifted colour, his curiosity obvious. "You are the first friend our associate has spoken of. He merely explained that you had a passion for orchids, and that you needed larger premises. Beyond that this one knows only your name."

"I see," Irikah said, knowing that her confusion would bleed into her voice. "I'll be sure to tell him that the specifications were met, and if I may say exceeded."

The hanar glowed with what looked like pleasure. It was tinged with the smallest edge of relief.

"I'm afraid I do not have the honour of knowing your face name," she said.

"It is Hehran. Please, if there is anything you need do not hesitate to ask. Garsta will supply you with any information you require," the hanar said, shimmering brightly. It hesitated, and Irikah understood instantly.

She crossed to the box, and lifted the Damalia orchid out with tender care before placing it in the empty centre of the display shelves.

It had not suffered noticeably from its time hidden in the glasshouse at school. The colours shone just as brightly as they did the first time she looked at it.

Under the misty light it glowed, purple and orange star flowers tumbling from its seven flower stalks.

"Magnificent," the hanar said, blazing with interest. "A fine specimen, perhaps the finest this one has seen." It lingered in front of it, then seemed to come to with a slight quiver. "This one has trespassed long enough. Please, take your time settling in. Garsta will provide you with the key codes."

Irikah bowed, and the hanar left her alone. It was quiet save for the hiss of the humidifiers. No children calling, no traffic outside. And there in front of her was her very own Damalia orchid, safe at last. There was also the box on the table, and she allowed herself to turn to it.

This time Irikah opened the flower first, pulling the white petals back to find Thane's handwriting inside.

_For your collection. Thane._

Inside the box was another orchid, this one unfamiliar and Irikah wondered if she was holding something just as rare as his first gift to her, but from another planet entirely.

It had a single delicate flower stem, and at the top a ball of pale pink flowers each with a pale yellow centre flecked with blue. It was beautiful, even if she had no idea what it was. She set it next to the Damalia orchid, and stood back to look at them.

Thane was spending money on her. He'd helped her sister, and he'd found her this place. Irikah remembered every last gesture of every meeting, the feelings in his words, and the gaze he had turned upon her. She wondered if she was right to suppose that he had feelings for her.

There seemed to be no other logical reason for him to show such kindness to her, and it made Irikah deeply uncomfortable. She should leave the orchids and never come back, delete his contact details from her comm and pretend she had never met him.

What she couldn't delete were her memories. The way he spoke of his family, the quiet calm with which he carried himself even as his eyes gave him away.

Irikah sighed and turned away from the orchids. She adjusted the environmental controls to ensure they'd remain alive in her absence, and headed out of the room Thane had found for her.

Garsta was waiting outside. His fingers flicked over the display of his omni-tool. "Ah, here," he said, holding up his wrist.

Irikah let him transmit the data to her comm, then dropped her wrist and gathered her coat close. "Thank you. I have to leave now."

"I'll call you a transport," Garsta said. "Follow me." He led her out to the bay they'd landed in.

Irikah felt as though she'd fallen through time into a dream at the end of a long day. The house made of glass, and the unreal sight of the perfect orchids conspiring to make her feel as though the centre of her world had come out of place, leaving her spinning in a new orbit.

This was all Thane's doing. He took the ground from under her feet and left her doubting.

A transport arrived, this time the usual silver, and she got into it without looking back, instead choosing to close her eyes and sink her head back into the seat. She was weightless, unanchored and scrabbling for purchase in what seemed like an impossible situation.

Was he trying to buy her forgiveness? Was she allowing him to?

Irikah opened her comm, and typed.


	10. Chapter 10

She paced, too agitated to notice the clutter that hindered every step. Thane was due any moment, and she still had no idea what she wanted to say to him. She had to know where she stood.

Irikah heard the knock at the door and rushed down the hall, flinging the door open to find Thane outside.

She said nothing, and instead headed straight back to the living room to resume her pacing.

Thane followed her slowly, brow furrowed, and stood beside the sofa watching her pace. There was nowhere for him to sit even if he had wished to, books were spread haphazardly across every seat.

"Is there something wrong? Has something happened?" Thane asked.

Irikah stopped. "Yes. What is this?"

Thane opened his mouth, but Irikah hurried on, words spilling out of her. "What are we doing? You bought me an orchid, and I now I have my own orchid house. I checked what the other orchid was. It all cost so much, and all of it paid for by you, by—"

"By what?" Thane asked bleakly, not moving.

Irikah looked at him, at his hands behind his back and his broad shoulders, at the muscle that vanished beneath the leather of his coat. "By blood," she murmured, remembering the blossoms falling in the square. "I can't accept any of it."

"What changed?" Thane asked. He walked around the sofa and blocked her path. "I asked if you wanted help, and you agreed. Why not speak up then? Why wait until now?"

"I was drunk," Irikah almost shouted, but she couldn't meet his eyes when she said it. Drunk or not, she'd enjoyed sitting there beside him, the feel of his fingers beneath hers, and the loneliness giving way to something else.

She gulped in a breath and caught his scent in her throat, trapped between watching him draw closer and the urge to run away. Thane caught her fingers in his, lifted her hands to his face and with aching sweetness he kissed the palm of first one hand, then the other, pulling her closer.

"Thane, what are you doing?" Irikah gasped, not trying to tear her hands away from him.

"What you want me to do. What I wish to do."

She closed the distance and kissed him. He tasted of smoke, and death, and unsaid things that she'd wished for in the night.

His tongue slipped into her mouth, and Irikah's own need burst from her throat, layers of longing in her voice. He returned her call, a throaty purr that she felt through the thin fabric of her tunic. With a last moan Irikah broke away.

Thane stared at her, chest heaving, hands fallen at his sides.

"What I want doesn't matter," Irikah said, lust threatening to betray her resolve. "It changes nothing. Everything you've given me is paid for by blood, by the death of strangers, and I can't live like that. I can't be with you wondering about the souls taken by your hands."

Thane's expression, one moment alive with longing, faded to the cold blankness she'd seen in him from the start. It was a careful distancing act that infuriated her now.

"Don't do that! Stop shutting yourself away."

He backed away in one swift step, turning half-way as he looked towards the door then back at her.

"Irikah, ever since I met you I seem to be trying not to feel things. I gave up on life long ago, I accepted my place in this world, and until you looked at me I felt nothing. But whatever you think of me, I will not feel shame for what I have done."

"Then what do you feel? What would it take for you to stop?" Irikah demanded.

"This is who I am," Thane said. "This is who I have always been. This is what Amonkira willed me to be."

Irikah had known this all along, just as she had known how she felt about what he did. There was nothing else she could say apart from what must be said.

"Thane, thank you for everything you've done for me. I'll ask Hehran to sell the orchids and repay you."

"Irikah, wait—"

"No," Irikah said firmly. "Whatever Amonkira willed you to be, it isn't good enough. You don't have to kill people. That is your choice. I believe you are better than that. Now please leave."

His mask had slipped now, and instead she saw pain in his eyes, and a hesitation that looked as though it might tear him in two. When he turned away from her she saw his head bent, his back slumped forwards as though he were being pressed into the ground. Irikah made herself look away.

The door closed quietly behind him. Irikah went slowly into the bedroom, shut the door, and hid herself beneath the blankets.

-0-0-0-0

_Irikah, wait._

_I must have your forgiveness._

Irikah blinked the memory away, breathing in the heady scent of burning leaves.

Her sister sat neatly in a row of other applicants barely three metres away from her, all of them there for the Guild induction ceremony. Her father sat beside her, and for the first time in months he looked entirely present.

His little girl was finally achieving her long held dream, and that gave them all something to hold onto amidst the slow tide of grief.

Ennai's back was straight, her slender form sheathed in a silk tunic decorated with twining flowers, and her eyes fixed firmly on the Master leading the ceremony. Once he'd finished his speech he would ask each of the applicants to approach the front and join in the tea ceremony that was their formal welcome to the Guild.

It would have been Master Bristos up there, Irikah reflected, if it hadn't been for Thane. She hadn't seen him since their last meeting, and she'd heard nothing from him. His silence told her everything she needed to know.

She'd tried to get in touch with Hehran about the orchids but he never replied, and she couldn't pluck up the courage to go back to the glasshouse.

If she saw those beautiful orchids it would only hurt. The truth was too raw. She wanted to keep them. She wanted Thane. But whilst he killed people there was no way she could have those hands near her, or build a life with someone so steeped in blood.

_What would it take for you to stop?_

She'd let herself drift away again. Irikah dug her nails into her arm and let the nip of pain focus her on the present, an action she'd taken all too often lately. His kiss still tortured her, leaving her powerless in its grasp, and she struggled to break free.

Ennai rose from her place and approached the front, her gaze finally sliding over to them.

"Ennai Ektrepho," the Master intoned, and she sank gracefully to her knees beside the tea table. Someone brought her lacquered case over, and set it before them.

Irikah caught her breath. Her father shifted beside her.

Ennai opened the case, and took from it all the implements that would be her constant companion through her training, tools that had been passed down through their family specially for this purpose.

Once everything was laid out Ennai took the hot water from the low burning stove beside her and began.

It was like a dance. The pouring, and stirring, the preparation of the leaves, and all of it done with Ennai's nimble grace. She had practised for this moment time and time again, until her family knew the ritual as though it was their own.

Their mother had hoped to see this, and Irikah felt her heart catch as her father's hand slipped into hers. They would have to witness it in her stead.

The first cup was poured, and it was time for her father to step forward. As part of the ritual the guardians were asked to attend and pass their child over into the care of the Guild that would now shape their life.

Irikah watched as her father crossed the room on bare feet and sat down beside Ennai, followed by the Master.

To Irikah's surprise, Ennai motioned for her to come forward. She couldn't help a confused glance at Brina who merely nodded towards her and mouthed '_Go_.'

Irikah made her way to the front and sat down in the empty space, conscious of the eyes upon her and the incense drifting through the air, of the dust in the faint beam of light that passed through the coloured windows, and the subtle scent of tea.

The Master began to speak, his voice curling around them all and drawing them into the moment.

"This is the beginning of Ennai's journey, and all of us must play our parts. Sere Ektrepho, as Ennai's father it is you who must begin, as you have guided Ennai's life."

Her father raised the first cup, took a sip then placed it carefully on the table. He then raised the cup to Ennai, who murmured words of acceptance before taking it between her slender fingers, and offering it to the Master. He dipped his head to her, and passed the second cup to Ennai.

"Now you are part of the Guild. We will be as family until you leave this place, and as family we will guide you in this, your chosen life, Lady Ennai Ektrepho of the Ranir Guild," he said, watching Ennai as she sipped the tea and set the cup down.

There was one cup left. Irikah felt her eyes prickle with tears. This cup, the last cup, was one offered to a nominated guardian, a person whom they trusted to watch over them in their endeavours. Ennai lifted the cup to her, her blue hand bright against the white cup.

"Irikah, would you honour me by accepting this?"

"I will."

Their fingertips brushed, and Irikah felt the weight of the cup in her hands as she brought it to her face and tasted the tea. She had entered into a sacred agreement, one that had been in place for as long as the guilds themselves. It surprised her that she had been chosen for the task.

When they had practised this it had always been Brina who played this part, their eldest sister with the quick words and unending patience.

She caught her elder sister's eye, and Brina dipped her head with a smile.

Their part in the ceremony had ended, and they rose, returning to their places to watch the last few families take part.

It passed in a blur. The taste of tea on her tongue, the flowered back of her little sister, and the soft words of the Master.

Her sister was embarking on a new life. She would finally achieve everything she had hoped for, and Irikah was happy for her. For the rest of them life would stay the same, the only difference being the absence of Ennai. Irikah thought back to her empty apartment not with relish, but with a sudden clutch of loneliness.

As they filed outside, leaving Ennai behind, Irikah stood in the waning light beside her family and said her goodbyes. Brina was returning to her family. Tivan was going home to his wife. She was returning home with their father.

They had all agreed to keep an eye on him, and Irikah had been happy to make sure he got through those first days in an empty house. Once she had craved independence, but now she found herself hiding from it, telling herself she was doing it for her father. That much was true, but the sight of her apartment was more than she could bear.

They journeyed back together, discussing the ceremony and Ennai's first week at Guild.

It was not until they reached the house that reality finally took hold of them. It was silent and dark, the lingering scent of tea in the air. Once Mara would have been there, bustling round the kitchen and ordering them about. Ennai would have been sat at the table with her tea set, inventing recipes and begging them to try a cup.

Now it was just Irikah and her father. Irikah fell back on what she knew best. Tradition.

She lit the lamps, humming as she did so, and set the large kettle on to heat as she started preparing food. The simple presence of the everyday sounds made everything easier. Her father wandered into the kitchen and sat down at the driftwood table to watch her cook.

Irikah brought him a cup of smoky tea, then set herself down next to him. The silence grew, filled with the distance that Irikah had set between them.

"Thank you, Iri. I know Brina asked you to stay," her father said with a wry smile. "What would we do without Brina, hmm? She reminds me of your mother. You all do."

"All of us? Even Tivan?"

"Even Tivan. Brina got your mother's bossiness. You got her stubbornness, and Tivan got her artistic temperament."

"Tell me how you met her," Irikah asked, and her father looked surprised.

"You know that story well enough."

"No, we always heard it from mother. I want to hear it from you," Irikah said, resting her hand lightly on her father's. She could indeed recall her mother's words, the laughter lighting her eyes as she recounted the tale to her rapt children, but she'd never heard it from her father.

He gazed into the distance, his memories swirling before him.

"My unit and I…we'd finally been granted shore leave. We'd been stuck out on one of the colonies for months, and it had been very quiet. We were all ready to stretch our legs a little. Have some fun."

Her father smiled slightly, then sighed.

"By the time we made it back to base the next day we were all, shall I say, a little worse for wear. As we got closer to base we saw them, demonstrators, waving their placards and shouting. Usually I would have ignored them but…" He shrugged. "It must have been the drink. I started arguing with one. He was so young, shouting at me like he knew something I didn't. Damn kids, always thinking they know better."

"You weren't much more than a kid," Irikah reminded him.

"No, but I was old enough to have seen some action, get some sense knocked into me. He kept shouting. I thought he was just noise, nothing more. And then he hit me. I didn't see her coming, I just heard this voice, and when I opened my eyes…'_Golden as the sun, as Arashu herself. She stood over me, and in her gaze there was anger and tenderness, and something else.' _"

He paused, and Irikah remembered the look her mother would get when she told this story.

"Mara asked me if I was alright. She helped me up. And then… you know that glare. I've never seen anyone back away as fast as he did, the fool that hit me. We swopped details. A few months later I was given permission to leave, and that was it."

"You don't talk about your time in the army," Irikah said, taking a sip of tea then getting up to check the food.

"No. It was a whole other life. You can't imagine what it is like, Iri, and I wouldn't want you to. Mara and I, well, we wanted you to be free of the Compact." His voice took on a depth she hadn't heard before. "Once you become part of it, it shapes your life until you cannot imagine anything else. You become a tool to be used. You don't get to make your own decisions."

"You don't agree with the Compact?"

"We owe the hanar a great debt. But to take a child, and mould them into something for your own use is…regrettable. Especially if that use is something that would stain their soul."

_I passed into their guardianship at the age of six. _

Irikah felt a flare of emotion, and for a moment she had to turn away from her father.

"You had to kill people, didn't you? That is what they trained you to do."

"From the age of ten, yes. I was a soldier for eight years before I met your mother. I saw enough fire fights," her father replied calmly. "It wasn't easy. It's never easy taking another creature's life, and for drell it is harder than most. But I did what I had to do. I did the job I was trained for."

Trained to kill, to take lives. And each life would be recalled in perfect detail, every moment picked over. She'd been lucky enough to live a life of ease, surrounded by people she loved. Thane hadn't been so lucky.

"Iri?"

"I'm sorry." She ladled the stew into the waiting bowls and carried them over to the table. "Here, it won't be as good as mother's."

They sat silent, testing the stew. She was right. It was nowhere near as good as Mara's would have been, but her father was gracious enough not to say anything.

"You've never asked about that before. I hope I haven't upset you."

"You haven't. Thank you for being honest," Irikah said, and she made herself smile at him.

The evening passed peaceably enough, and after a while Irikah made her excuses and climbed the stairs to bed. Her room had stayed almost exactly the same, and as she curled under the covers she thought back to her time there when she was small.

She'd been happy. Her greatest worries had been nothing more than whether her friends at school liked her, and her worst memories were of her brother's accident, and the time she accidentally insulted a hanar.

Irikah tried to imagine lying in bed remembering kills made that day, of being someplace without a family who loved you no matter what mistakes you made. Who kept you safe.

It was impossible. Irikah turned over, and kicked her cover off, staring blindly at the wall. She could see the blossoms falling, the sunshine on her skin, and the shadow bent before her. _May it bring you peace when all around is dark. _She knew what she had to do.


	11. Chapter 11

The first message received no reply. The second bounced back.

_Recipient Unknown._

Irikah sat back and watched those words flicker across the screen.

Children's voices filled the air, and outside the early summer sun was trying to pierce the clouds. But inside, Irikah felt the cool grasp of shock.

She'd expected him to answer as he had in the past, to come to her when she called. It had never occurred to her that the hunter would go to ground.

This complicated things.

One of the children called her name, and Irikah let the thought fall from her mind as she crossed the classroom. There would be time enough later.

-0-0-0-0-

What would Thane do? She had no answer to that, all she had was her own memories to sift through.

They'd had precious few points of contact. The square where they first met. The Palace of the Illuminated Primacy. Her classroom. _Her home._

Irikah looked up, as though she might conjure him from the shadows, but everything was as it should be. The chairs were pushed neatly behind the desks. Pictures fluttered gently on the walls. Her desk was overflowing with books, and crumpled scraps of paper. The only thing that had avoided the mess was the flower Thane had returned to her.

She'd kept it safe, having tucked it under the glass dome that housed her cactus collection, and thought nothing more of it. That flower had led him to her, and now it was one of the last fragments she had left.

Irikah gathered her things, scooped armfuls of paperwork into her fraying bag, and set out. She retraced her steps back through the square, striding out across the open space towards the larni trees, and found herself at the spot where she'd seen that bright red dot.

Now there was nothing but the decaying fruit at her feet, and the lengthening shadows when once she'd stood there with Thane.

'_He killed no others. I made sure of that_.'

She set off again, down the path she'd taken, and found herself at the place where Thane had fallen to his knees before her.

His hand had been warm on her skin, but now she stood shivering in the midst of the walkway. There was not a soul in sight. Even the rain had stopped, leaving her without the comforting hiss that was the voice of the city.

All was silent, and Irikah felt it steal into her. What could she say? How could she reach him when he didn't wish to be found?

Irikah scuffed her toe along the ground, then reached into her bag for a scrap of paper. It was the work of seconds for her to fold it, and let it flutter to the ground at her feet. She still had places to revisit. Her last words to him had showed her where to go.

-0-0-0-0-

Garsta emerged as the taxi landed, his body stiffening as she stepped out into the brightly lit landing area. He watched behind her for a moment, and only relaxed as the taxi lifted off to leave her standing alone.

"Lady Ektrepho." Garsta gave a deep bow. "We haven't seen you in so long. We thought that we had offended you in some way. Please, accept our—"

"No," Irikah interrupted, patting him on the arm. "Nothing like that."

"Oh, that is good," Garsta said. "Hehran was concerned when you did not come back. I'm afraid he isn't here. My master was called away on business a while ago and has yet to return."

"I tried contacting him," Irikah said. She tugged her bag up her shoulder, and glanced at the glasshouse. "Could we talk more inside? I'd like to check on the orchids, if I may."

"Yes, of course." Garsta led the way, waiting by the door before winding his way through the lush greenery. "My apologies, Hehran has a habit of ignoring his messages when he is off-planet. I could try getting your message to him, if you'd like."

"I…no. It can wait," Irikah decided. She opened the door to her room and entered, eyes flickering as the lights detected their presence and rose to an acceptable level.

The orchids were exactly where she had left them, maintained perfectly by the enviro-system, and the irrigated shelves. Nothing had changed. The paper flower Thane had given her remained on the island in the middle, its petals crinkled by the humidity.

"I wondered, have you heard anything from our associate?" Irikah asked. She picked up the flower and unfolded it carefully.

Fear, swiftly hidden, crossed Garsta's face, and Irikah knew at once what the cause was.

"No, we have not. We thought if we had displeased you then he might have made contact," Garsta admitted. He couldn't stop himself from looking past her at the door, but when Irikah turned there was no one there.

She couldn't let this go on. "You did nothing wrong, please don't worry. I didn't get chance to tell him how helpful you were the last time we met, and I haven't seen him since."

The salarian nodded. "I see. We've heard nothing. Not that we usually do."

"If you do hear anything, please could you ask him to contact me?"

Garsta gave her a calculating look. "Yes, of course. Thank you for visiting today, Lady Ektrepho. It is a relief to see you again. Will you return soon?"

Irikah shrugged. "I don't know," she answered truthfully, turning her attention to the Damalia orchid. "I hadn't planned on coming today, but here I am."

"I see. Well, I shall leave you for now. May the night find you well," Garsta said, flitting out of the door before Irikah could rouse herself to reply.

Though they hadn't met there, Thane had found this place for her, and he had visited to leave the second orchid for her.

Irikah looked down at the unfolded flower in her hand, at the ink bleeding through the paper, and the words that had vanished in a purple smudge. She knew Thane's handwriting, had memorized the crisp lines left by his hand.

Taking a pen from her pocket, Irikah wrote her own words across what were left of his.

_Please forgive me._

She folded the flower and left it on the side. The darkness filled the room once again as she walked away, heading towards the last stop on her journey.

-0-0-0-0-

The familiar form of her friend was reflected in the water, colours of sympathy that danced in pink fragments over the surface.

"This is an unusual favour to ask," Cassil said. She drew closer to where Irikah was crouched beside the water, staring down into the depths of the pool. The Waters of Unerring Insight had given her nothing. Overhead, the ceiling was as dark as the rooms beneath, no reflection of the stranger contained within.

"I know, I wouldn't have asked but…" Irikah sighed, letting her eyes shut. It was late now, and she'd not slept well the night before. Resignation made her heavy, and for a second she considered letting herself fall into the cool water to wash away the weariness. "The last time I was here I met someone."

Cassil glowed orange, then back to a pale pink. "Someone you wish to see again?"

"Yes. It doesn't matter now. He's not here."

Irikah hadn't expected him to be there, but a part of her had needed to confirm his absence. Thane had vanished from her life, driven away by her lack of understanding and her own self-righteousness. Who was she to tell someone how to live their life, when it was the only life they had ever known?

"I'm sorry, I know it's late. I should get home, I've still got work to do." Irikah got to her feet. "We could meet up in a few days, if you'd like."

"This one would like that. Perhaps you will have more to say at our next meeting."

A few days would give her time to make peace with her actions, even if they could not dull the edge of her memories. Given time she might stop expecting him to message her. She might visit those places they'd been to and think of other memories instead.

Maybe one day she could think of someone else's hand warm on her arm, of a new kiss on her lips that drove away the taste of him, and the ache of his absence from her bed.

For now she returned home alone.

-0-0-0-0-

It had been Brina's idea. 'You will like him, I promise. He has a wonderful family. He seems very nice,' her older sister had tried to enthuse.

Irikah had shrugged, and accepted. She supposed that courting someone was the right thing to do, given her on-going single status, and the increasing frequency of comments from her family. Even Ennai had mentioned it.

The only silence was her mother. Irikah filled in the gaps by imagining what her mother would say, a small comfort for the real thing.

Sitting opposite Daro at the table she imagined exactly how her mother would describe him. Nice. Polite. Helpful.

Daro filled her glass whenever prompted, asked all the right questions, and made no mention of Arashu. Irikah wondered if Brina had said something, then thought better of it. Brina thought a good catch was someone of the old religion, and wouldn't have wanted to drive suitors away.

He was tolerably good looking. A deep orange darkening to rusty red on the tops of his hands, and at the top of his chest. He wasn't particularly muscled or tall. Daro wasn't particularly anything but nice.

After their date, small talk stretched over two hours, Irikah knew she wouldn't bother seeing him again. Instead she watched him walk away and breathed a sigh of relief.

Being alone was preferable to being bored to death. 'He was very nice, what are you thinking?' she imagined her mother saying. 'Message him. Make another date. You shouldn't be alone at your age, Irikah.'

Irikah turned for home, and then stopped. She didn't want to go back there just yet, only to have to try and explain to her family what was wrong with Daro. Nothing. There just wasn't anything right about him either.

She chose the opposite direction. It was only a short distance to the nearest exit, and Irikah passed through the double doors without meeting anyone. The vestibule was quiet save for the hiss of the dehumidifiers. Even the sound of the sea was muted.

The last set of doors opened, and the sounds of the night rushed in on her. The crash of the waves, the high call of birds somewhere in the inky black sky, and the heavy patter of raindrops.

In moments Irikah was soaked, but she pushed on towards the beach without caring.

There, drowned in the noise, Irikah felt some semblance of calm. She could no longer hear the nagging voices in her head, or recall the things she wished to forget when the sea held her attention.

Waves reached for her feet and splashed through her shoes, splattering the edge of her tunic with gusts of spray. The summer's warmth had given way to the barest hint of autumn's chill. The seasons had turned again, and somewhere out in those blue black depths were the bones of her mother.

Light suddenly caught the wave tops, and Irikah lifted her head to see the moon appear from its nest of grey cloud. She hadn't seen the moon in months. Those of the old ways called her Neomenos. Keeper of lost things, Goddess of those who were lost, or those seeking to find.

From the darkness she would emerge, only to vanish again behind cloud or into the shadow of the planet. She was a reminder that things were never truly lost, only hidden or transfigured.

Irikah watched, mesmerized, until the moon hid her face again, and darkness returned to the beach. It was time to go home.

She trudged all the way, wishing she could call a taxi but knowing few would take her in her sodden state. Her shoes were starting to chafe so she peeled them off.

The cold of the ground only made things worse, and by the time Irikah reached her street she was shivering violently, teeth chattering as legs made stiff with cold moved more slowly yet.

The light outside her door was on. Sitting beneath it was a figure, dark in the brightness, and Irikah forced herself to move closer.

Thane looked up at her approach. Clutched in one hand was a paper flower.


	12. Chapter 12

He was there. Waiting for her. She'd given up expecting to see him, yet there he was.

"Thane…" Irikah stumbled forwards, and he got to his feet.

"Irikah, are you well?"

"I am," she said, fumbling in her bag for the keys and dropping them to the ground.

Thane sprang to help, and their fingers brushed as she struggled to close her frozen fingers over them.

"Your skin is like ice. Let's get you inside," Thane said. He took the keys from her unresisting fingers. She allowed him to open the door, and followed him into the still darkness of her apartment. Her sluggish mind sought the words she'd given up on.

She'd imagined this moment over and over, to the point where she could almost call it a memory. But now Thane was here her gestures seemed foolish, like the dreams of a child. Irikah knew she would not get another chance.

Thane switched the lamp on, navigating the messy room with ease. Irikah could only watch.

"We need to get you warm," he murmured as he brushed past her and headed into the bedroom.

The whole place was a terrible mess. There was no surface to be seen. Her desk was overflowing with bits of paper, half folded flowers and spent pens. She had nowhere to sit. Her bedroom was equally bad. He was in her bedroom.

"Thane, wait," Irikah called, and she tripped over a precariously placed basket, hitting her shins hard against the table in the centre of the room.

The pain woke her up. "Arashu be damned," Irikah cursed, reeling backwards. Blood welled between the scales on her legs.

Thane darted back in with a blanket in his arms. He folded it over her shoulders, and dropped to look at her legs. "This needs tending to. Do you have a med-kit?"

"In the kitchen, but I want to talk to you first. Thane!"

He ignored her, and vanished into the kitchen. "I will listen, when you are tended to," he called.

There was the familiar sound of the kettle being filled, and Irikah gave an exasperated groan. This wasn't working out as she would have liked.

"You need tea," Thane told her as he emerged, holding the med-kit. There was a hint of admonishment in his voice. "Now sit still."

Irikah glanced at the chair behind her. It was heaving with clothes, most of them dirty. She swept them off, and sat down heavily, cocooned in the folds of her blanket.

Thane sat cross-legged before her, examining her wounds carefully before applying medi-gel bandages with deft fingers. "You should escape permanent scarring," he said, finishing up and moving to stand.

"No," Irikah said. She leant forward, and caught the edge of his coat firmly. "You're not going anywhere. Sit down."

Thane looked at the kitchen door.

"The tea can wait. Now, sit," Irikah commanded, summoning her courage.

He did so, folding down onto the cluttered rug without a word.

Irikah gathered the blanket closer and shuffled to the edge of the chair. "The last time you were here, I said some things to you. I was unkind, and I am sorry for that. I should not have judged you as I did. It was not my place."

Thane looked up at her, and Irikah wished they could trade places. It should be her at his feet.

"I want to offer you my forgiveness. And I would like to ask for yours."

"You forgive me?" Thane said, and Irikah dropped to her knees in front of him.

"Please, I am sorry for what I said. What Amonkira wills is not to be thrown away lightly. Please, I must have your forgiveness."

Thane looked down at his hands. "I have thought about your words more than I care to admit. I could not rest, knowing what you thought of me, and I had to ask myself why. I do not regret my life, or my actions. What I am is what I have been made to be."

He raised his gaze to hers, and Irikah stilled.

"My concern is that, by following Amonkira's bidding, I have turned away from any other path open to me. I fear, perhaps it is not Amonkira who calls me now, but Arashu."

"I don't understand," Irikah said quietly.

"If you sit back down I shall explain," Thane said, and Irikah got slowly back into the chair.

"I spoke to the hanar who employed me. I explained my feelings, and they made it clear that if I wished to leave their service I was free to do so. It has been my whole life. I have known nothing else," Thane said, shifting uncomfortably. He clasped his hands together, then separated them and got to his feet to pace the room.

"Irikah." Thane stopped, and turned back to face her. "If you still wish, I could stop. But I cannot do this alone."

He was offering her something, not something paid for with blood, but the one thing she could accept.

"You wouldn't be alone," Irikah said. It was done. They looked at each other. At the beginning of something new, and the end of the life they had known.

The kettle gave a piercing shriek, and Thane hesitated.

"Go," Irikah smiled. She drew her legs up into the cover, and laid her head back amidst the warm folds. She felt sleepy from the warmth, and a strange feeling of contentment that crept through her veins as she listened to him in her kitchen.

The soft chink of cups being laid upon the tray. The hiss of water.

Thane carried the tray through and put it down carefully on the floor where he had cleared a space. "How are you feeling? You look warmer."

"Better, thank you."

She watched him stir the tea, and pour it into the waiting cups. He'd chosen her favourite set, blood red with dark flowers embellished in repeating patterns. Thane's skin was green against the dark, his fingers a cradle as he lifted the cup to her and she accepted it.

Irikah sipped the tea, then rested the cup on her lap. "I went to the beach," she said dreamily. "I should have known better but…I wanted to see the sea."

"You are hardly dressed for the beach."

"No. I dressed to meet someone." She conjured Daro's image in her memory. "But I met you. I'd given up on ever seeing you again. What brought you back?"

Thane rubbed his thumb over the cup and kept his eyes downcast. "I met Hehran whilst I was travelling. He said you had asked for me."

"Oh." She'd hoped it was the flower that sat on the table, the one he'd arrived with.

"I did not intend to return. You made your wishes clear, and I had no reason to believe they had changed." Thane smiled, and his neck skin flushed red. "I ignored his words at first. They made me hope for something I couldn't have. Foolish as it may seem, I came back because I missed you. I came back because he gave me hope that you might miss me too."

When he raised his eyes to hers they were filled with such longing that Irikah could not look away.

"I missed you." The haze of warmth had gone. She was painfully aware of the throb in her legs, the man sitting within reaching distance, and the sharp pull of desire. He wasn't hers yet. "What happens now?"

"I will go back to my masters and inform them of my decision. There will be things in motion that I must take care of, but once those are dealt with I shall return as a free man."

Irikah nodded. "How long will that take?"

"I do not know. There is much to consider. I suppose I will need some other method of funding my lifestyle." He said it with a wry smile, and Irikah smiled back.

"You'll have to work like the rest of us. Out in the morning, and back at night. Schedules. Routine." It seemed strange to think of him joining the daily migration to work and back again. That he would appear at all was still a novelty.

"Ah. Back at night. No interruptions. I can see the appeal," Thane said.

Irikah tried to fight back a yawn and failed.

"I have outstayed my welcome." Thane returned his cup to the tray and got to his feet. "It is time I left. There is still much to be done, and you have work in the morning. Schedules. Routine."

Irikah moved to get up, but Thane crossed to her side and crouched down. "Stay there, you need to keep warm. I don't know when I will return, but I will be in touch."

"You won't disappear again?"

He leant close, and pressed his lips to her cheek barely inches away from the delicate skin of her neck. "You have given me a reason to return. Goodnight, Irikah."

"Goodnight," she murmured, pulling the blanket tight around herself.

She watched him leave, heard the door click shut behind him, and in the silence left she found herself listening. Listening for his return, and all that it would bring.


End file.
